


The Makings of a King

by sstxnkyrat



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Anger, Bisexuality, Brothers Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Denmark being a Jerk (Hetalia), Dork Denmark (Hetalia), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Dance, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Gay, Historical Hetalia, Historical Inaccuracy, Jealousy, King - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mental Instability, Mentioned Iceland (Hetalia), Minor Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Multi, Nobility, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Denmark (Hetalia), Queen - Freeform, Rating May Change, Royalty, TEMPORARY Hiatus, Tags May Change, Unrequited Love, but that doesn't justify it, denmark gets easily jealous, denmark is a bisexual disaster, dorkmark, he's an asshole because he has to be, history and science is accurate, in this medieval story being gay was okay, quick updates, social etiquette is not, you aren't supposed to love or hate Denmark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstxnkyrat/pseuds/sstxnkyrat
Summary: After the death of both parents, Prince Matthias of Denmark awaits coronation, but he can only become king if he marries another royal. Eager to assume the throne, the vigor prince engages in a quest to find the perfect queen. During his quest, Matthias crosses paths with Prince Lukas of Norway, a quick-tongued, secretive, and attractive man. Within days Matthias falls in love with the prince, but his love is unrequited.Prince Matthias is determined to win over the heart of Prince Lukas, no matter the consequences. Is the determination to win Lukas over admirable, or is it destined to be the downfall of Matthias?
Relationships: Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Belgium/Spain (Hetalia), Denmark/Iceland (Hetalia), Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), Denmark/Sweden (Hetalia), Estonia/Finland (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Norway/Sweden (Hetalia)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Rich Old Men

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy doo my fellow stinky rats, I first want to thank you for stopping in to check out this work. I have been meaning to write a DenNor fanfiction for the longest time, but my fear that the hetalia fandom was dead stopped me from from ever writing for it. However, after the announcement of the new season coming out and more fanart being made than ever before, I decided that it was finally my time to shine and write. 
> 
> Having said that, your support helps me tremendously with encouraging me to continue writing. Please feel free to leave comments, bookmarks, kudos etc.
> 
> If you really, /really/ wish to support me then you can donate to my kofi shop @ ko-fi.com/sstinkyrat . Here you can donate a monetary amount of your choosing, along with dropping small messages of encouragement. Of course, even if you do not donate, you can support in other ways, including: sharing this fanfiction with friends, commenting, sharing on social media, making fanart, etc.
> 
> *******
> 
> As you proceed, keep in mind that Matthias is a DYNAMIC and ROUND character, and that he (like many main characters) will go through some sort of change throughout this piece. I portray him as a stubborn and vain prince that suffers from episodes of impulsivity and anger. I base this off of Hima's note stating that he was a "ruffian" as a young man. You do not have to love or hate him as a character in this fanfiction. In fact, most of the main characters will have their own vice.  
> 

"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination." - Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings.

_______

"The King and Queen have been killed!" 

A pause. Then chaos. 

“The prince needs to learn responsibility and take the crown!” Another scowled. 

A murmur of consensus followed. 

“He needs to grow up and replace the regent. We look weak, and our neighbors are starting to take notice.” Yet another pointed out. 

"We mustn't rush the prince,” A voice piped up, attempting to play a game of Devil’s Advocate, “ God would want him to pay his respects. In Corinthians..."

Prince Matthias, an only child, was the heir to the Danish crown. An heir that had to step up and endure coronation quickly, for his parents had been killed, leaving the Kingdom of Denmark under the rule of a regent, which screamed the words "attack us" in bold lettering on any map.

"The boy is the prince, and the first in line for the throne. He must take the crown as soon as possible, or else our neighbors will sense weakness and attack us." Another voiced, eyes scanning across a grand room filled with men of great importance. He steadied his gaze, hardening on the most influential of people, including the prince.

Matthias erupted a soft chuckle at the stare, sinking into his seat as the beginnings of awkwardness began to feed on him. However, as soon as the noise fled from his lips his eyes hallowed and his heart began to skip a beat, having attracted even more unwanted attention onto himself. 

He swallowed.

"And what do you find so amusing, /Prince/ Matthias?" Another sneered, scoffing at the immature squeak that erupted out from his wide mouth. Though, however serious the man was, the prince could not help but stare, eyes growing transfixed on the obscure mustache that the senator held. It was gargantuan and long, wicked hairs pointing in every direction. He couldn't imagine that his wife enjoyed the feeling of his facial hair during a kiss. 

That is if he had a wife.

"H-huh?" Matthias huffed.

Immediately the young man caught himself staring. Abruptly he sat himself up, clearing his throat and fluttering his eyes closed. His pale cheeks puffed, freckle dusted skin shimmering in the light, softening as he regained his posture. Although the child in him yearned to burst out in a wicked dance of laughter, he held his tongue. This was his chance to show the elitists and other people of importance how mature he was, and that he would make a fair king.

"...I think it is funny that a bunch of old men are arguing about me, that is all." Matthias smoothly hummed, extending his arms upward toward the ceiling, netting his fingers together before cracking each one. "If it was not my time to reign as king then God never would have allowed my parents to die, especially right now. If anything, it was a sign that change is approaching."

The blond paused for impact, watching as the mass ogled at him, jaws dropping at his vanity. "Y'see, maybe this is a sign that I am ready to be crowned as king. And let me tell you, none of you will be disappointed with me as your king."

A ripple of murmurs cascaded through the room, tensions beginning to grow and men leaning at the edges of their seats, as though they encouraged the young noble to continue with his words. Half of the men that sat in the conference room rolled their eyes and bit the innards of their cheeks until they puckered, faces soured and jowls flopping in the still air. Disapproval hung clearly on their faces, much like the excess skin from their drooping eyelids. The other half sat with wide smiles and flushed cheeks, nodding their heads and gesturing with their hands, urging the boy to continue.

Much like the senators, pastors, clergymen, and nobles, the public was split with their opinions on Prince Matthias. He was a very opinionated young man, open about his views on the neighboring nation of Sweden, along with his hatred for being bossed around. He was a ruffian, known to party, travel, spend insane amounts of money and his seemingly unquenchable hypersexuality. Though, while he was a character filled with weakness, the other side of the moon spoke of a powerful man that could bring unification to Scandinavia. He spoke a lot, but he also knew how to follow through with things, unlike many royals of the past.

Additionally, he was well acquainted with social organizations and was especially grateful for farmers and cattlemen of the nation. Matthias had the face of a promising king if given the chance, and was believed to be able to combine the new "forward-thinking" views to that of the more conservative ones. If what was believed was true then the young braun had a chance at becoming one of the most influential kings that the nation of Denmark would ever see.

Steadily he draped his puckered tongue across his bottom lip, breath hitching. "I am over the age of eighteen, I have a vast knowledge of politics, amazing understanding of mathematics and language, diplomatic skills, not the mention I am well-acquanted with many nobles on a...personal level."

Another ripple of words cascading through the building. The prince had valid points. However, he was missing one minuscule detail- "You're unwed, Prince Matthias. In order to become a proper King, you must marry a noble."

He deadpanned, face greying and heart dropping into the depth of his stomach. Marriage. Marry. Commitment. Loss of freedom. The very bane of his position in the world. No matter what he said or did, to go through with a proper coronation, he must be married. Instead of marrying for love, or marrying when he felt was ready, he was being instructed by a wave of dead and near-dead men to marry for politics. The instruction of marrying for political reasons was not uncommon, many times resulting in incest or suicide, but alas it was a part of his title. 

Don't get him wrong- Matthias was stoked at his position. Authority was in his blood, and the wave of power that he got whenever he was able to sentence someone to death or a degloving was something that nothing else could compare to. Even the feeling of a pulsating sex organ pleasuring him was laughable when compared to the power that being a prince brought. With a crack of his mouth and a snap of his wrist, he could make anything happen. 

Why be a peasant, struggling to provide to their family and lord, when he could feast of duck and vodka until dusk became dawn and the stars aligned. Being a royal meant that an entire nation was at his party- he was the most loved, popular person in the nation and the most hated at the same time. Plus, the thought that at least one person was plotting his death sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins- and he was a junkie for the stuff.

But marriage? It was dumb, truly and irrefutably dumb. 

If he married then he could kiss his freedom away. No more casual hook-ups with exotic women and irresponsible partying across borders. Instead, he would be tied to a single bed, left to his own demise, presumedly marrying someone that he had no feelings for.

Perhaps if he fell in love with the person that he married or got a say in the person that he would engage then perhaps his opinions on the matter would be different. Alas, the policies and procedures that his kingdom instated would never allow such a thing. Allowing royals to marry who they want freely? You mind as well begin hunting for the rope that will ring your neck. 

"Marry." Solemnly he said, eyes going blank. 

Suddenly the room that once lived in anxious vigor turned so silent that even a single pin-drop could be heard from across it. Denmark was expecting him to straighten himself up and settle down with a noble or else he wouldn't be able to be crowned king and a regent would be forced to step in his class. Perhaps one of his cousins; Bella or Beau would suit the position beautifully.

That is, if the rumors of Bella sleeping with a good for nothing Spaniard knight proved to be false and if Beau stopped conspiring with the French. The only cousin that seemed to have his stuff together was Lars, a bulky man with a fine cut to his brow and a pipe for a best friend. Though Lars had his own thrown, only waiting for his own parents to die before assuming it.

Though, unlike Matthias, Lars would be saddened at their death. 

Truth be told, when the Danish heir first found out about the assassination of both his mother and father, he jumped for joy. His pride and ego got the best of him, leaving him stuck in a day dream like state until only a few moments ago. His unquenchable thirst for power throbbing.

"...And if I refuse to marry?" He pondered allowed, raising a single brow at the men that surrounded him, loudly dropping his elbows against the oak table that he sat at. The collision was thunderous, noise littering through the corridor. A smirk followed.

Though, unlike the prince, the rest found his comment far from amusing. 

"Then you can kiss your throne away. Maybe your brat cousin Bella will forget about her loser boyfriend-"

"He's a knight!"

"If he's not royal then he's useless...as I was saying, perhaps she would take it. Boy, you have a choice to make. Either you marry someone appropriate for the position as your queen or your forfeit your right to the throne. It's that simple." Now it was the clergymen's turn to erupt in giggles aplenty.

A pause, then a fit of coughing followed.

"W-whaT?!"

Without a second thought the prince stood himself up, the veins in his temple throbbing. A vibrant red consumed his once pasty white face, blood boiling with frustration. He had lost the argument, and even worse, his previous assumptions were correct. If he did not marry then his cousin Bella would be the next in line, and knowing her, she would sacrifice even the best of lovers for a chance at being a queen. The noblemen had already discussed the what if's of the situation, leaving Matthias raging.

The next thing he knew, wood splitters cascaded through the room, three of four chair legs rolling across the floor, the chair which he once had sat on now destroyed. His ruffian nature brightly shone, anger destroying the seat. 

Angry outbursts such as this were far from uncommon, but nonetheless, they were still unexpected, especially at a meeting with so many important officials. Though most of the clergy and other nobles hushed themselves, silent guards of the prince remaining stoic as dull, treating the occasion as something as normal as a burp or yawn from Matthias. The best thing for people to do when around a certain frustrated Dane was to submit to him, or at least remain silent and calm during the matter. He fed on retaliation, and he was well known as an angry or sad drunk and enjoyed a nice fist fight now and then. 

In fact, he claimed that his best friend was an axe, and when he was not busy with his royal duties then he was most likely hidden away in his training room. There he could act out in any barbaric way without any judgment, free to swing his axe, shoot an arrow, throw a spear, and so on so forth.

"Prince Matthias-"

"SHUT UP YOU HAGGARD BASTARD." He yowled, swinging his body around the room before his hands settled on his hair, pulling at his thick locks with a gruff sigh. His cheeks, now resembling that of a chipmunk rather than a human being, completely swollen. 

"...Perhaps we could come to an agreement?" Another voice chirped, this one much softer than the others. It belonged to Scandi, his mentor since before he was able to walk. Almost every time that man spoke he felt relaxed, knowing that the man was there for him and no one else and that he simply was trying to help the young man make the right decisions.

"Speak." Roughly he commanded, not meeting the eyes of the other.

"While you are required to get married, and to a person of noble blood, there are no other qualifications." He paused, shooting him a bittersweet smile, blue eyes shimmering with a wave of kindness that had no place living in an atmosphere such as this. "If you agree to marry someone that meets these qualifications then we, the court, will allow you to marry the person of your choice."

Matthias paused, shoulders slumping and excess air that he had been storing in his cheeks finally releasing. While throwing his temper-tantrum did not make it so he did not have to marry, he was at least able to pick the person he wished to marry. He exhaled.

"And I think that all of us here are aware of your...familiarity...with many royals. Surely you have a few that come to mind." The man added on, sending the young lad a wink, insinuating that the Dane had slept with numerous nobles in his lifetime. The man wasn't wrong in that regard, though he was incorrect with his second statement. Not one of them he could see himself living with.

The prince of England, Arthur was it? He was too strict and acted way too old for his age.

Roderich was already married, so that was out of the picture.

Natalia was terrifying, and he could see her poisoning him, even if she provided back-breaking sex. 

Still, he could choose.

"Fair enough," The blond held his breath, clearing his throat momentarily before standing himself up tall, peering at the men that accompanied him, straightening himself out as to look more mature. It was easy how quickly he could calm himself if things leaned more in his favor.

Suddenly the silence that once allowed crickets a turn at orchestration ended, men, howling out cheers of approval. They had tamed the beast, reaching an agreement that both sides could agree to. It was an accomplishment that none would have even thought possible. If the prince kept to his word and picked his fiance then they would have a strong leader and an even stronger country. No one would dare to face Denmark with a man such as Matthias leading it.

"That settles it," Another chimed in loudly, voice ricocheting throughout the room, voice carrying from the ceiling to the ground, and then out to the corridors that surrounded it. "We shall have you personally invite young bachelors and bachelorettes in the form of a letter to a ball." 

The voice paused, a sudden high pitched squeal of excitement from Matthias following. 

The man paused, clearing his throat before proceeding. 

"The ball will allow you to socialize with others in a similar situation, and when you find the one that you wish to marry then report it to the council. If you find the one then you'll be married by the end of this month, and be crowned king. Talk about a good deal!"

Matthias nodded, shifting his weight from the soles of his feet to his toes, bouncing erratically.

"It looks like the prince has agreed. Does anyone in this room disagree with the decision that has been made? No? Well then meeting adjourned." The crow twisted his bulging head, flappy skin trembling with the motion. A crooked finger roused itself out, gesturing to the prince.

"Boy, I leave you with this: clear up that aggression in you. It's a dangerous quality to have".

And with that then men flocked out of the confined space, leaving the prince alone with his innermost thoughts, a concoction of mixed feelings sedating him. Suddenly reality became a dream, body swaying and the event just moments prior echoing in his head. 

"...Don't patronize me, old man."


	2. A Cordial Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Prince Matthias begins his quest in finding a suitable fiancé

"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew." - William Shakespeare

________

Head in the clouds, Matthias' brows began to knit together. A soft patch of wrinkles between said brows shone proudly, reading the word "concentration" in bold lettering. While it was a rarity, even Matthias could handle things earnestly if it was serious enough. And writing the invites to his ball was imperative.

The soft flickering of a whale oil lantern fluttered in the distance, illustrating a smooth grove of black across his highness' cheekbones and jawline. The shadows easily grew accustomed to him; the wicks of the lanterns proudly ignited a flare of romance in the room. The combination of the dim lighting, the scent of putrid ink, and cozy nightwear created an ideal ambiance for letter writing. All it took was a little push and some homely lighting to get the prince in a focused mindset.

Matthias rapidly found himself dabbling sweet nothings into his letters. One character at a time, the young man made sure to cross every single "T" and dot each "I", attempting to come off as a more mature and respectable young man than what most would figure.

Contrary to popular belief, the young man cared a lot about his image, not wanting to disappoint the public, yearning to fit in and be the very best that he could be. He needed to have control of this situation, and writing these letters helped to give him that upper hand, painting an image of husband material rather than a quick smash and then pass kind of guy. Not that anyone would pass him up for another person, of course.

The point is, writing the letters allowed him to come off how he wanted to each bachelor and bachelorette. For example, with Princess Lili, he came off as humble and conservative, while for Gilbert he came off as energetic and rather pompous. He knew how to approach nearly every royal, having met most through a combination of parties, politics, balls, weddings, etc. Though there was a single name written on his list of royals that he had to write that left him defenseless, a name that was surrounded by a cloud of mystery. A deep fog that no amount of air could break apart. 

Prince Lukas of the Kingdom of Norway. 

He blinked once.

Twice.

And finally, a third time.

Norway, a neighboring nation to the north, had an eligible bachelor?

Being completely honest with himself, the prince hadn't known that the frigid nation had a young prince at marrying age. Being so close to the nation, he couldn't help but grit his teeth and clench his jaw, a wave of frustration ravaging through his mind. No matter what he tried to think about, his mind could not help but return to this mysterious boy.

"A mysterious guy from the land of trolls and wisps," The blond mused, bringing the very end of the feathered quill to his face, brushing the plush feathers against his cupid's bow and nostrils, the flaring of his breath causing the utensil to tremble. 

So many emotions ravaged his mind:

Guilt, for never asking if Norway had any lineage to their throne

Excitement, for he had discovered a possible new friend 

Hunger, for marrying Lukas could bind the two nations into one union, which meant more power for him

Curiosity, for he hadn't a clue what this enigmatic man looked or acted like

Though what pressed him the most was the simple fact that he had never met this man before. The blond had attended nearly every social gathering in Northern Europe since he got his first tooth, and yet he had never met his very own neighbor? He could not help but go from curious to slightly alarmed, teeth sinking into the plush of his bottom lip as he sat in silence, lost in his train of thought.

Either this prince was an epic loser and embracement to the royal crown, or he was a man that preferred to keep to himself. 

But either way, if either of these were true then Matthias couldn't help but wonder why his mailing address appeared on the list of royals that he was instructed to approach. Unless the nobles wished for him to possibly pursue him as a way to gain the Norwegian crown, and thus the nation.

But still, why?

Steadily he unfolded a piece of paper, smoothly flattening the surface of the article until no folds or creases remained. With a careful hand, he brought the feather from his nostrils and toward the bottle of ink, steadily dunking the finely shaped point into the puddle of jet black. The tip only rested in the bottle for a few seconds before he peeled it back out, allowing excess liquid to dribble from the slender point and back into the jar. Once sure that the black would not blot, he began to write. 

_Greetings from your friendly neighbor from the South, Denmark! Hopefully, this letter finds you healthy and prosperous. I, the amazing Prince Matthias, cordially have invited you to attend a ball at my palace. There will be alcohol, snacks (aka me), and rooms provided if you wish to stay the night. Please dress in formal wear, but leave the underwear at home._

_Anyhow, if interested in attending my super cool ball then write me back. I cannot wait to meet you Lukas, my possible prince._

_Matthias, Prince of Denmark_

Holding the paper up with a grin wide enough to reach either side of his face, Matthias could not help but smirk. The message was short, to the point, but it also screamed him and his intent. He wanted to marry, and possibly get to sleep with his Norwegian comrade if given the chance. The ego was a bit strong, but in Matthias' opinion, that was the best way to be, similar to an onion.

"If I didn't win his heart over that letter then the guy must be dumb. He'll be awestruck the moment this reaches his fishy hands, i'm sure of it." 

The prince paused, allowing the piece of paper to carefully flee from his fingertips. The piece aloofly sank toward the ground as he dropped it, granting the letter companionship with the other ones that he had written. All of the messages were skillfully crafted to paint the best image that Matthias could of himself. Though, despite the words of encouragement and vanity given to himself, the only letter that he was concerned with was the letter addressed to Prince Lukas. An itch of paranoia that he came off to strong, to real, to fake, to humbling, to attractive, to anything ate him alive, rotting him to his core. He had to be perfect for Lukas. The letter had to be perfect.

A letter for the mysterious prince.

For his mysterious prince.

Would be perfect.

\-----

Hair slicked back and fitted in a snug outfit, Matthias brightly stood out amongst the crowd. His near flawless body was visible for all to see, the groves of his muscles and the shape of his chest practically visible underneath the thin cloth that he sported. His boy, which he claimed to have been hand sculpted by God, proudly stood in the crowd. Though, perhaps more attractive than his body was his smile, accompanied by a mouth filled with teeth whiter than snow and straighter than a brick. A set of humbling dimples caressed each side of it, supporting two full cheeks coated in angel kisses.

Had no one at the party known him prior, the young man had the potential to come off as new money or royalty- he looked like the type of man that any woman would be eager to wed and bring home to their parents; a man that religiously visited church and who swore to his chastity belt until marriage, though this couldn't be farther from the truth.

The seven deadly sins knew him by his first name.

"Prince Matthias, you look stunning today." A gentle voice whispered, hardly audible. It was light and airy, hints of a song Germanic accent accompanying it. It belonged to Princess Lili, a tiny gem and upcoming beauty in the world of royalty. Had Matthias been younger or Lili been older then he would have already taken her to bed.

"Why thank you Princess, you as well." He responded tenderly, hunching his body over slightly in hopes of making her feel less towered because of their significant height difference.

Matthias, a man well above average in height and decorated with a myriad of pronounced muscles, stood out like a sore thumb beside the girl. He, a bad boy with aggression issues and a rich background of drama and petty crimes, coated in sex appeal, alongside the timid girl was laughable. A brute such as himself, well-known for his nighttime activities and ruffian nature, beside a girl that screamed innocence rose the brows of many onlookers. Though nothing ever did happen between the two, aside from sharing a small glass of red wine while on vacation, and the prince planned to keep it that way. 

The blond girl quickly flushed, dipping his chin slightly and averting her gaze. The tips of her fingers reached toward the ends of her hair, which nearly reached the middle of her back, accompanied by numerous braids, bows, and gems- a play on her femininity that Matthias could not get enough of. He fostered a friendly smile.

"Prince Matthias, I hear you are looking for someone to marry?" She pondered, cocking her head to the side, fumbling her feet about.

Matthias nodded, mouth going ajar, preparing to respond to her comment. However, as the female shuffled about, a familiar mesomorphic body came into view. The body was featuring a set of broad shoulders, choppy hair, squinted eyes, and a top that was long enough to be labeled a dress. Behind Lili, he realized, stood his archnemesis; the good for nothing prince that reigned in Sweden, the kingdom where his parents were assassinated. 

Any and all attention that Lili once had on the Dane vanished within seconds, transfixed on his enemy in the making. The sight of the male sent a wash of sickness through his body, forcing the blood in his veins to pump and his muscles to clench. A wash of anger consumed him. Prince Berwald, a stuck up jackass that enjoyed picking fights with his country at the wake of every morning, whose people were presumed responsible for the death of his parents, dared to show his face at his party. 

He hadn't even invited the man.

Immediately he rolled his eyes, light blue orbs falling into the back of his skull, frustrating eating him alive.

"Prince Matthias?" The therapeutic voice of Lili huffed, the meat of her flush hand grazing his forearm. "You look like you have seen a ghost."

The comment allotted a minuscule laugh from Matthias. "A ghost? More like a demon from Hell."

"-I beg your pardon?"

Tension began to build within the man's core, pressure bubbling in his stomach, and the veins in his forehead beginning to protrude. Matthias jerked himself free from the light touch of Lili, freeing himself from her net of safety, stepping forward and nearing the man in question. Adrenaline raked through his body, sound from either side washing out as rage consumed him. In only a few seconds the shorter Germanic girl wore from his train of thought. Anger reigned superior in this battle, and it showed no sign of resistance.

Time seemed to slow, with each step that Matthias took seeming like a lifetime. A flood of memories seized his consciousness. No longer was the prince in control, feeding into his primal instinct to kill game. Berwald was his prey, and he was prepared to strike with the fullest intent to murder and consume him.

"You." Matthias managed to choke out gruffly, resting his powerful hand onto the taller's right shoulder blade, forcing the man to give him all of his attention. 

"You dare show your face at my ball? Keyword: MY. How dare you?" He hissed out, anger continuing to develop, causing the grip on the other to tighten until he could feel the other's muscles begin to scream in agony. Matthias smirked.

"Do you have a death wish, Swede?"

Steadily his grin grew, brows beginning to arch and his eyes beginning to thin. The prince's muscles began to throb, eager to take a swing, unafraid of the events that could potentially follow. Most, if not all, of the people in his palace, were aware of his anger. In fact, half of the royals in the room had probably fought with him, or have gotten close to it. And with the well-known rivalry between Matthias and Berwald's nations, a fight was only to be expected. 

"Or is it that you want me to embarass myself in my own home- perhaps you planned this, you conniving bastard. You anticipated me to notice you and stir up some drama...you want me to ruin my chances at finding a fiance, don't you?" The blond went on, knuckles turning white and voice lowering. "Fine then, if you asked for drama then I shall give- punch me, bitch."

silence.

Suddenly the room began to spill, colors began to blend together, and before long the taller's hand cozied itself against Matthias' neck, slightly squeezing the air duct, constricting his intake of oxygen.

"-Berwald, where is this guy, anyway-" A pause followed the voice of the new speaker, a sudden hitch of breath following. 

Immediately the Swedish prince released his grip on Matthias, allowing the man a chance to catch his breath. A wash of pink consumed his usually colorless face, hands quickly returning to his sides and eyes darting downward. 

Matthias' gaze followed Berwald's, and the sight that was bestowed upon him gave him bee's knees. About a good head below Berwald stood the face of an angel, milky skin and full lashes clashing with a pair of pouty, kissable lips. He must have died from the lack of oxygen, and this new face had to belong to the angel that was sent from above to recover him and bring him to the kingdom in the sky.

"Who is this?" Suddenly the monotone voice questioned, attempting to lock eyes with Matthias, who refused to meet the gaze, his own face beginning to boil. Suddenly the strain in his temples was induced by his fancy for the androgynous-looking male rather than the anger he felt toward Berwald.

Berwald shrugged, turning his body to face the slender man. "Lukas, this is Matthias. Prince Matthias."

Matthias flinched at the other's words, suddenly feeling as though a volcano was erupting inside of his stomach. The other's words roared in his head, ringing, mocking him in every which way. Not only was this guest incredibly attractive, but he was his neighbor to the North- Lukas, the prince of Norway. 

Immediately he turned clammy, his once condescending smirk now resembling that of a nervous teen boy. Abruptly he lifted a hand, forwarding Lukas a quick wave of his hand. 

"And you must be Prince Lukas, from Norway?" His voice cracked.

"That I am."

Suddenly the room, which once had been spinning, came to a screaming stop. A wash of white consumed the prince's mind, tension building up in his core as a concoction of emotions fought inside of him. The man that he had anticipated meeting the most had met him alright, but in the worst way possible. Any sense of control that he had once felt when writing his letter washed away. Suddenly he felt completely naked and exposed, vulnerable, and humiliated. It was all thanks to his great pal, Berwald.

He grimaced, adam's apple beginning to frantically bob. Thoughts of how to regain his posture and control ravaged through his mind, but alas nothing seemed to compute. If his brain was a computer then it was shutting down, doing a hard reset, and the power button refused to cooperate. 

"You are hot- wait no wait, hold on-" He choked out, immediately looking away from the prince and covering his mouth and cheeks, not wanting to be seen in such a state. He hadn't acted this ridiculous around another person since his balls dropped, so why now? He groaned. 

"And by that I mean that I wouldn't oppose you riding my dick- wait hold on, rewind. Beep beep beep." Sparks began to ignite in his brain, an overload of awkwardness eating him alive and breaking down his hardware. Suddenly his batteries burned out, toes curling, and body beginning to sway. 

Shaking his head, the blond opened his mouth to speak, aiming to fix the painful situation, only to be interrupted by the man that got him into this situation to begin with, Berwald.

"Prince Matthias, your majesty." The Northern lion began, "Prince Lukas invited me to accompany him at your ball. Being familiar with your past, he felt it was a smart decision to bring a friend to ensure his safety."

Matthias swallowed.

For once he felt guilty for his past, for his vices, for being struck by the urge to kill. The typical social butterfly felt ostracized in his own home and yearned to turn back the clock and change everything about himself. A deep pang of regret bobbed in the back of his mind. 

"Very well," He huffed out, puffing out his chest and daring to extend his hand out toward the other, hoping that an act of charm would aid in a smooth recovery. "It is a pleasure to meet you Prince Lukas. Care to join me for a dance, I promise I don't bite. At least, not very hard."

At this comment, Matthias could have sworn that he spied a sheer flush of red on Lukas' cheeks. However, if it had existed then it was long gone, replaced by the most subtle of smiles. A very minuscule twist appeared on his handsome lips, as though the Norwegian was saying: "You amuse me". 

"I _cordially_ accept your invitation."


	3. Dancing with a Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lukas accepts Matthias' invitation to dance; Matthias swears to marry the Norse prince for the glory that comes along with it

"The lion [and tiger] may be more powerful, but the wolf does not perform in the circus," - Unknown

____

"I cordially accept your invitation."

These words rang through the blond's mind, echoing inside, sending fireworks straight toward his heart. Suddenly it began to be a challenge to breathe, the proximity to Lukas driving Matthias insane. Despite the horrible introduction to the fellow prince, he had not been denied a dance. Certainly, that had to mean something.

Carefully taking one of the other's hands in his own, the Danish royal led Lukas from Berwald and toward the middle of the dance floor. Hands clammy, he bitterly hissed at himself, praying that the body language would go unnoticed. He yearned to help fix the reputation that his Swedish neighbor surely and festered into Lukas' mind. If they were close at all, then he was bound to have some preconceived notions or opinions on him. It was his job to correct those lies and half-truths.

"Thank you for entertaining me with a dance," Hummed the Dane as the two of them met in the middle of the ballroom. A quick smile flashed across his speckled cheeks. "I'm sorry about...earlier."

Lukas paused, rolling his eyes at the nobility that stood before him, quickly reaching forward and stealing the other's hands, ignoring the plethora of nervous sweat that was expelling from them. For a guy that seemed so full of himself, he seemed awfully nervous.

"It's whatever." He despondently replied, shrugging his shoulders the slightest bit. 

"Oh? I'm grateful that you could come tonight. I promise i'm not as bad a person as the media makes me out to me. Really, i'm kind of awesome." The blond began to drone on, nervously chattering, hoping that by talking he would come off as some sort of strong and confident type. Though in reality, he appeared insecure and desperate. Nearly everyone in the room could see it if they watched close enough.

In fact, it was a sight to be had. Normally, the blond was unphased by people, even the attractive ones. He was used to being surrounded by the most elite and beautiful, getting whoever and whatever he wanted, and being able to toss them out when finished with them. Though he couldn't do that with Lukas. 

Perhaps that was what brought him the most anxiety. The fear that, because Lukas was such an important character, that he wouldn't be able to throw him away when he was finished taking care of his business. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that this breathtaking creature tolerated Berwald- a near-impossible feat.

He could attest to it.

"So mister Prince Lukas," He went on, noting how the other seemed to be a more reserved type of person. The pale blond had been holding his tongue for nearly a minute, swaying with Matthias in silence. "How come I haven't met you before?"

At this, Lukas rolled his eyes, something that the Dane was beginning to sense was a signature of the Nordic. "Because you haven't asked."

He paused, heart nearly dropping into his stomach, another sheet of sweat breaking out, this time on his neck. Nervously he broke out into a chuckle, brows raising and thumb tensing. Lukas was correct, he hadn't ever pondered the children of the royal family, never feeling like there was a need to find out if the king and queen even had children. He supposed that if they had children that they would put them out for display like dolls, using them to reflect their superiority at parenting and of nature, much like his own parents did to him before they passed.

"Fair enough, I just figured that i'd have run into you at a party or something at some point." Matthias replied, the slightest bit of defensiveness picking up at the end of his dialogue. 

It was a fair argument; there was no justifiable reason why Lukas refused to make himself known in the slightest. The teenage years were meant to be impulsive and have fun, go out and party, skip church, the usual. But from what he was picking up from this prince was that he was a man that enjoyed the solitude. He preferred being alone, which confused Matthias.

How could someone like being alone?

Wasn't that like, humanity's biggest fear or something?

"I have responsibilities, Prince Matthias." The quick tongue on the man hissed, dish water colored brow arching as he replied. "My people look up to me so I have to set an example for them to follow."

Yet again, the other knew just the right thing to say to make Matthias feel like a log. Quickly, he noted, his feet grew into weights. Suddenly his dancing went from good to bad, to worse. The awkward tension and hostility between the two forced Matthias into a corner. For once he was no longer the cat, but rather the mouse, and Lukas was his predator. 

"...You're a pretty kitten, though"

He paused, yet again red blotted his face and neck.

"I beg your pardon?"

He groaned, mentally facepalming at the bluntness and outbursts that he spilled, yearning to have his head split open. No alcohol was involved and yet he was already acting like a fool. Forget a smooth recovery, this was a one-way ticket to a rocky death. He could only pray that it would end soon.

Then again, he didn't want to cut his time with Lukas short. That was the last thing on his agenda. 

"I swear I'm not normally this awful. I don't know what has gotten into me, really." Huffed the Danish nobility, lowering his head as he spoke, forehead nearly resting on the others, not wanting any of his guests to spy him in such an uncomfortable position.

"Shut up, Dane." The smaller replied smoothly, not waiting a second before spit firing. 

Shutting up was the solution to his problem. By remaining quiet, he eliminated all possibility of embarrassing himself through verbal exchange, which happened to be his new enemy. Forget about the Swedish dunderhead, his hormonal impulses were going to be the cause of his death. Lukas would send him to the grave. 

But for some reason, the thought of Lukas being responsible didn't seem completely wretched.

Steadily the Norwegian royal shuffled his hands, slithering them across Matthias' palms. The touch sent shivers down his spine, cascading through all of his nerves and setting alive. The man turned aloof, mouth going ajar and chin pointing down as he watched Lukas. 

Craftily he slid a single hand down the entire length of his arm, trailing his fingertips across the limb and toward his chest. Once centered between both pectorals, this hand lingered, familiarizing the space. Meanwhile, the other hand made its way to Matthias' shoulder blades, ticking him as he continued to touch.

"Uh Prince Lukas, I love being touched but uh...what about your reputation?" He choked out, biting his bottom lip. "A nice guy such as yourself, coming from a repuatable family, getting handsy with me is uh...not the most socially acceptable thing. The church-"

"I said shut up, didn't I?" Lukas retorted within seconds, pinching the man quickly in the shoulder, a subtle grin in his eyes taking shape. 

Stunned, the blond stood, a floundering mess. His jaw dropped, mouth welcoming dust and possible bugs due to how far it hung. The sight sent Lukas a wave of amusement, enjoying the way he was making the big bad dog turn into a whimpering puppy in seconds. 

"It's just- you really shouldn't be this comfortable with a man that you aren't wed to...yknow, because-" He went on despite the warning, only to feel the other's light hand lift from his shoulder blade and instead cozy against his mouth, muffling his words, since a verbal indication was, clearly, not enough.

Steadily, the Norse prince began to guide the other, no longer wishing to be guided by a man that had lead blocks for feet. As he shuffled his feel along he sunk in his stomach, humming ever so softly, eyelids fluttering shut. 

To Matthias, he looked beautiful. His face was finely sculpted, face featuring high cheekbones and long lashes that brushed against his cheeks. His hair was skillfully style, featuring hints of curls and red undertones to his sandy hair. Meanwhile, his body was slender; he wasn't scrawny but he wasn't muscular, either. Rather than featuring pronounced muscles like himself, Lukas seemed to be the type to be agile and flexible. His body screamed androgyny, and the dress he wore hardly helped his case.

The other was ahead of his time, and from the look of things, he didn't appear to care what people thought about it.

Matthias liked that spirit in him.

With little thought, he drew his tongue against the other's hand, drawing the muscle along the flesh. He yearned to speak, not used to being silenced, and not wishing to get used to it. 

The motion was fluid, and it let Lukas have a stab at blushing. Yet again a sheer film of pink highlighted his nose and cheeks, his hand quickly being pulled back and greeting Matthias' shoulder once more. As the apendage was welcomed back, the Norse took advantage of Matthias' clothing, wiping the moisture from the palm of his hand off with a curled lip.

"That's better," Matthias mused, nostrils flaring. "Why don't we take a walk in the royal gardens and get to know each other a little bit more?"

The question came out quicker than Matthias could have ever imagined, and as soon as it flooded from his lips he felt himself sink yet again. Lukas' hand had been protecting him from himself- from saying things like that. 

If he learned anything about Lukas, it was that he was a man of few words and didn't fancy Matthias' blubbering. And yet, here he was, choking out the most dreadful of dialogue. It was a miracle that he hadn't been abandoned yet, quite honestly.

Suddenly the Norse came to a stop, no longer leading the Danish prince in a dance. Rather he stood still, eyes widening and upper lip beginning to raise in the slightest bit. Matthias' breath came to a hitch as he felt the other remove his hands from his body, dropping them at his side instead.

"A dance is all that I need." He simply huffed, eyes hardening as he lingered before the man, forcing the taller to quake in his presence.

"Wait, Lukas-"

"Prince Lukas."

Mathias tensed, mentally facepalming himself at the weak whimper. "Prince Lukas, I thought things were going good...what happened? I take whatever I said or did back!"

The Norwegian blood took a step away from him, face returning to its usual stoic one, burying any hint of why he changed his mind. As far as Matthias was concerned, it was impossible to read him when all he was given was a dull stare and an excellent posture. The other had crafted the art of defense, of having the upper-hand. It made Matthias mad.

"Now wait a god damn second-" The prince burst out, swinging his right hand forward, stealing Lukas' wrist and preventing him from leaving. He refused to let his kitten leave him without so much as a reason. 

He was a prince, and he deserved to know what it was that turned the other off. This was his ball. This was his party, and he commanded that everything go his way. 

"What did I do wrong?" He pondered, raising his voice and continuing to have a tight hold on the other.

Matthias would get an answer, or so help him.

"Let go of me, Matthias." 

"It's Prince Matthias, your /highness/. Now answer me." He sneered, eyes narrowing as he spoke, mocking the other for a previous comment that he made. 

"Let go of me." The Norse repeated, this time daring to raise his voice, retaliating against Matthias. Though unlike Matthias, he continued to remain cold, not allowing himself to submit to emotion and give the other an idea of why he suddenly chickened out from spending more time with his highness. 

"Not until you answer me. You are in my kingdom, you are in my palace, you are speaking with me. I command you to answer me." He drew his breath, continuing to squeeze the other's wrist, ringing it. 

The touch left his hand nearly white, meanwhile, Lukas' grew limp as the brute force of the touch sent a wave of pain through his arm. Though, despite any pain that Matthias induced, he remained collected and unresponsive to his dramatic advances.

"I said speak."

Lukas grunted, narrowing his eyes and lowering his head. "I don't take orders from princes."

That comment left the prince irate, forcing Matthias' heart to skip a beat and blood boil with rage. Abruptly he jerked the other forward, watching with an aberrant smirk as the lighter of the two stumbled toward him, unsuspecting of the power that he had. Immediately he found himself pulling the other in close, resting a hand firmly on Lukas' hip, firmly holding onto the location, hoping for bruises to come from the pressure.

"I'll be a king soon enough, then what?"

The smaller remained silent, avoiding eye contact.

"Prince Lukas, please answer me." 

The Dane paused, emitted a gentle sigh, a puff of hot air fleeing from his mouth and grazing along the other's pale hair. A few strands shuffled at the wave. 

"...I apologize, sometimes I forget myself." He growled through gritted teeth, continuing to hold the other firmly, his stubborn nature getting the very best of him. "I just want your attention."

Lukas paused, his jaw clenching briefly.

"You have it."

The Dane's grin only continued to brew at this comment, overjoyed with the confirmation that the other was focused on him. In response the man loosened his grip on the other, no longer holding with enough force that he was breaking the skin, rewarding the other with his compliance and form of submission, even if it was not exactly what he was looking for.

"Now kitten, please answer my question." He purred, leaning down and releasing his grip on one of Lukas' hips, using it to cup his chin instead. Tenderly he rolled the point between the balls of his thumb and index finger.

"Remind me the prompt, your highness." Lukas murmured, knowing very well what it was.

He chuckled.

"What did I do wrong that makes you want to leave?" He paused, applying a gentle amount of pressure on Lukas' chin. "Is it because I commented on your reputation? Or are you afraid of being alone with me...?"

He paused, eyes leaving the other's form and freely wandering among the mass. As his baby blue eyes expanded, he took note of Berwald, who seemed distracted by a shapely woman that had to be in her late twenties, sporting a thick braid that wrapped around her head in the form of a crown. Matthias hesitated, lingering on the sight for a moment before a thought crossed him.

"Are you afraid to leave your guard dog and be completely alone with me, my prince?" He pondered, jerking his fingers and forcing the other to lift his head. "You best stay away from your Swedish savior. He's trouble."

Lukas grunted, rolling his eyes. 

"I think I can handle myself."

He paused yet again, eyes going from his enemy to a grand clock that hung on the wall. The gold hands ticked away, counting down the minutes to midnight. Counting down the seconds before people would begin to take notice at how long he'd been spending with the other. 

"Now, I'm going to physically let you go, but don't think this is over. I have every intention of marrying you, troll boy," He snickered at the nickname, forcibly jerking his fingers into the other's scrawny sides once more, applying enough force that a squeak induced by pain finally fluttered from Lukas' resistant lips.

"For the memories, so you don't forget." He explained smoothly.

With a moment of hesitance, the man finally allowed the other freedom, allowing the smaller to slither away from him and crawl back to the lion of the North's side. A sense of pride consumed him, glee radiating from him, unable to mask the grin that survived on his face. 

Lukas didn't comment on his intention to marrying him, meaning that he had a chance at winning his heart. Meaning that he could become king rather than giving up the throne. 

Though, if the Norse didn't fall in love with him then he had a foolproof backup plan. Blame the marriage on politics as most royals do. Claim that the Norwegian crown could benefit significantly from the marriage, convince the king and queen, then Lukas had no choice but to wed him. 

Matthias had no problem with getting what he wanted, so the marriage was as good as gold. 

Images flooded through his mind as he thought, lost in wonder. The man was growing high, and it was all Lukas' fault.

If he married Lukas then, not only would he have the ability to brag about the looks of his queen, but he could take the Kingdom of Norway for himself. He could tax the living hell out of the Northerner's, build a prosperous nation and army, call himself king, and he could battle and defeat Sweden. He would bring his crown back on the billboard as one of the strongest, alongside England, Spain, and Portugal. 

"He's the one, mom, dad. I promise to bring the kingdom back to its former glory. Denmark will become a world superpower, you just watch. I'll make you proud."

As Lukas finally reached the lion's side, Matthias turned on his heels. The sound of squeaking rubber on marble flooring echoing, his footsteps echoing as he paced toward an immense oak door, walking with purpose. The prince had no time to stand and socialize. He had a wedding to prepare and a man to swoon.


	4. Marry Thy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Matthias receives confirmation from the royal hand, Scandi; A proposal of marriage

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins," Colossians 3:13:14

***

"Chin up, shoulders squared, stomach tucked in...very good indeed, Prince Matthias. Your posture is excellent." Hummed the Scandi, a man that had known the prince since birth, aiding him on his journey through life. 

The man was in his mid-thirties, sporting the palest of hair, to the point where it was comparable to white. It hung to his shoulders, neatly chopped and layered. He dressed for success, only sporting the most up to date fashion trends, and he was proud to admit it. Frequently he found himself filling in as Matthias' clothing stylist despite it not being listed anywhere in his job description. 

While the child could be a hand full, he did his very best to tolerate and raise the boy. By day he acted as his mentor, schooling the young prince on politics, arithmetic, etiquette, among other things. By night he stood in as a father figure, having been there for the boy even more than even his dad. As a child, Scandi adored reading classic literature to the boy, and as he grew into a fine man. The lessons of literature became tips for marriage, stories of his military experience, weapon training in the armory, and so many other things. If there was one man in the world that had complete respect from Matthias, it was Scandi.

"Young man," He breathed, circling him and steadily nodding his head in approval. A bittersweet smile swallowed his face, the slightest trace of tears hiding in his eyes. "You've become such a fine young man. You'll be an amazing king."

Scandi paused, pulling at the reigns of his horse, instructing the equine to step forward. Obediently it followed the orders of its rider, stepping toward the prince. The stallion whinnied in contentment as it reached the prince's side, standing near Mattias' horse- a black beauty with a star marking resting on its face and a mixture of white coronets and half socks smothering its graceful legs. The proximity of the beasts bequeathed the prince and his hand a chance at final words of encouragement. Without so much as a second of hesitance, the prince's mentor leaned forward, brushing a single white hair from the other's shoulder blond, belonging to the royal beast. He sent the young man a kind smile.

"The King and Queen are eager to meet you. Lukas, he is eager to see you once more. At least, that's what your exchange of letters have left me to believe." 

Matthias matched the other's grin, eyes softening as he was encouraged to pursue this. He, Scandi, and a few guards had made their way across the northern seas and ventured on horseback to Prince Lukas' castle, seeking out his hand in marriage. The journey was tedious and took longer than anticipated, but at the end of the day, the payoff would be worth the while.

The princes' first (and only) meeting ended terribly, with Matthias losing his temper and Lukas refusing to get alone with him. However, despite the hot mess that was their first exchange, the two proceeded to write to each other frequently. They spoke of daily life, of their dreams, their fears, their responsibilities, and on Matthias' half, partying. And finally, after a few weeks of swooning and letters, the prince had been invited to Norway personally by Lukas and his family. As far as the blond was concerned, the two would have a wedding before the next full moon. 

"I'll be right next to you. If you need any help or backing, don't be afraid to use me as a resource. The king will understand." The mentor reassured, patting the prince on his back, rolling the palm of his hand on Matthias' back tenderly, aiding the prince in calamity. 

With a few careful breaths and nod expelling from him, the prince unmounted himself from his royal stallion. Smoothly fleeing from the back of the beast, he landed firmly on the ground. The moist soil beneath his feet welcomed him, kissing at the soles of his shoes, smothering his body, and crying out for joy. Even the land understood- their king had arrived at last. 

Carefully the Danish blood turned toward his horse, walking across the land that was as good as his. He stood tall, a look of triumph plastered on his face as his eyes met with his mount. Everywhere he looked, as far as the eye could see, stood a land or being that saw him as a prince worthy of the crown. The only person that he had yet to convince was Lukas, the prince that he swore to marry, even if it killed him. He had been sold on the man's pretty face the moment he saw it, and now that he'd made up his mind, there was no going back.

"He'll be mine, Pjuske. Just you wait." Matthias whispered.

Gently he lifted his hands, caressing the snout of his horse, drawing the limb across the shapely face. The short, wiry hands sent shivers down his spine, equating happiness and thrill. The animal synonymous with freedom had brought him to the very kingdom that would take it away. Though, as much as he didn't want the constriction, he wanted to be a ruler. It was a sacrifice that he was willing to make with little more than a blink of an eye. 

Leaning forward, the prince brought his salmon-colored lips to the beast's face, leaving a peck to soothe both of them. The tender relationship between man and stallion blossomed, proudly beaming in the limelight. Pjuske was his companion, and he wasn't shy to tell the world. The affection that he felt for the animal was unparagoned. He smiled.

Finally, he drew his lips from the beast and cozied a single hand behind the animal's grand ear, the other reaching toward his pocket. The horse immediately flickered its ears, lifting one hoof after the other, tail waving in anticipation. Pjuske wasn't just an animal meant to take his prince from point A to point B- he was a friend of Matthias, and he knew his friend's mannerisms enough to know that a treat was coming. Excitedly a noise erupted from its mouth and had the animal the ability to grin then it would. 

Opening his mouth, the stallion was greeted with the firmness of a carrot. The moistness of the carrot caused the creature to salivate, tail continuing to whip from one direction. The actions of Pjuske sent a wash of red over his highnesses face. "Good boy."

He paused, adjusting his hands as he continued to pet and reward his friend, pampering him for everything that he was worth. As he rubbed behind his ears he carried on with his dialogue, only this time it was directed toward one of the many guards and their horses. "Take care of my friend for me. Bathe him in buttermilk, feed him only the finest of apples and greenest of grass. I expect him to be housed in the beast stables that this kingdom has. If so much as a hair is out of place on Pjuske, I will have your heads."

Steadily he peeled his hands away, watching fondly over Pjuske as he continued to slightly foam at the mouth due to the food. He waited until his companion's mouth grew empty and the carrot vanished, welcomed it in his tummy before sending his temporary goodbye's. "I'll see you in a few hours, boy. Behave yourself."

Representing himself, the prince turned his heels and waited for a single guard to fall to his side before he eventually crossed the wooden bridge that led to the heart of Prince Lukas' castle. In only a few moments, Matthias would reunite with his prince and future queen, and this time he refused to make a scene or risk losing him because of his impulsivity. With each step, he felt an onset of more jitters, a mixture of excitement and anxiety fueling him. 

"Stay calm, Matthias." He hissed at himself, blinking wildly as he finally found his way into the castle.

Inside he could not help but gasp, taking in the beauty of the castle, eyeing the paintings that licked the walls. Images of gorgeous men and women hung on the castle, most closely resembling Prince Lukas. Many had the same tired look and kissable lips, painted with only the best of paints, capturing the signature blond shade to the kingdom of Norway. Everywhere he looked, the eyes of the crown stared, as though the kings and queens of the past suspected his plot. 

He swallowed.

Proceeding, he aimlessly wandered along in the castle, almost as though he had grown chicken's feet. Dare he say it, but Matthias was nervous. While he was sure that he had the marriage in the bag, there was always the slightest possibility that things would not work out for him. Even if Lukas accepted his hand in marriage, he'd still have to get the approval from the king and queen. If the prince didn't accept his marriage invitation then he still had a chance, but his parents were more apt to reject him. 

He had to put his best foot forward and paint the image of a handsome, respectful man. Matthias had to prove to the royal Norwegian family that he was worthy of his hand, and prove that he would be able to prove for his partner until death does them part. The more that he thought about it, the more that he came to realize that he was trying to convince himself, too.

"Greetings Prince Matthias Anderson of Denmark," A soothing voice hummed, laced with kindness and a sensitive flair of femininity that attracted Matthias in an instance.

He turned his head, facing the female that had interrupted his moment of silence. The female stood a head shorter than him, equipt with wide hips, thin lips, and a courtesy that send a wash of butterflies up his spine. Gripping onto the bottom of her dress and dipping into a slight bow, Matthias couldn't help but feel humbled. The woman was bland, but the mixture of her accent and the features that she sported that were unique to the Norse people left him aloof. On cloud nine, even.

Without a moment's hesitation, the prince replied in his bow. Respectfully he held a single hand behind while the other crossed his chest. His wild hair quaked at the motion, meanwhile, a significant wash of charm overcame him. All insecurities that he once was feeling had been freed from his stomach as the woman approached him. As he stood himself up once more he caught her hand, lifting his pastel azure eyes with her icy ones, firmly placing his lips on her feminine hand, laying down a firm peck.

She giggled. 

"Prince Matthias should be enough," He smoothly hummed, sending the girl a slightly flirtatious wink as he granted her permission to shorten the title. "What is the name that you go by?"

"Frejya." She replied eagerly, darting her gaze away before clearing her thought, burying her brewing blush away. "Prince Matthias, I am Prince Lukas' personal housekeeper. Care to meet with the prince?"

"Oh boy, would I ever!" Immediately he screeched out, tapping his feet eagerly.

This was it. With Frejya, Lukas' housekeeper, it would only be a small matter of time before he was reunited with him once more. He had so many things to say- things that could not be expressed from letters alone. He needed to confess his physical attraction to the man, ask for his hand in marriage...he needed to prove to Lukas that he was worthy of taking the Norse crown. And of course, soon enough the dowry would come into play. By supper, he was bound to get something from this political arrangement. He could prove to his mother and father, God bless them, that he had what it would take to be an amazing king.

If they were looking down from heaven, which he liked to think, then he wanted them to see the best in him. He wanted them to be overjoyed at his success, and prove to them both that he had what it took to be a ruler. By the end of his life, he wanted to double the number of accomplishments that his father had done. 

With each step he took, the heavier it seemed that his feet became. The boots that once sat comfortably on him suddenly weighing him down. Despite being confident, he knew that the prince would have reservations. Although Matthias was a hot stud and an amazing lover, there was no doubt in the back of his mind that Lukas wasn't in love with him. They had only met once, and that first meeting put bruises on the other's hips for a week and a half. It wouldn't be let go, especially from someone as bull-headed as the Norse.

The walk through the castle's labyrinth of corridors and secret passages went completely over his head, and if left to find himself out of the building then he would get lost. Matthias had been lost in complete thought, weighing on what questions to ask and how to propose to his majesty. He needed to make up for what he had done in the past, and ensure that he'd change and become a better man, for Lukas. 

That was a bluff. He didn't feel any authentic romantic feelings for the other- he only wanted to stuff his dick in the other's ass and take the Kingdom of Norway for himself. The correction was this: he wanted to make Lukas think that he was in love, and in return, make the fish boy fall in love with him.

Finally, Frejya had brought the prince through the maze and brought him to his treat. Standing only a few hundred steps away in a lush field with a bow and arrow in hand, fitted in form-fitting pants, a bustier, and a silken white blouse, he resembled a fallen angel. It took every ounce of willpower that the Danish noble had not to drool. Lukas had him under a spell, having enchanted the man, making him sickly with a bad case of sexual attraction.

He swallowed, frantically thanking the housekeeper for her tour of the castle and for bringing him to his prince, before making his way toward the man.

As he neared the man he found himself unable to look away, eyes glued on him. He watched intently as the other pulled back a single hand, cozying his fingers with the arrow that was placed perfectly upon the bow. As he released the weapon it brilliantly shot, spinning vivaciously with the wind, all before hitting the target. He smirked. The man knew how to hold himself with a weapon, it was hot. 

"Hey hey hey, I don't remember dying, but I am glad that I did if that means that you'll be my guide up to the gates of heaven." Matthias hummed, forcing Lukas to snap his head away from his current task and granting the Dane his complete tension.

The royal sighed, swinging the satchel that was half-full of gorgeously ornate arrows behind his back, dropping the bow to his side. Steadily he twisted his body away from the targets, now only focused on Matthias. And as all-knowing as ever, Matthias could not help but feel his ego begin to grow at the reality. Now that he was there, the prince had no choice but to give him the respect that he deserved and stop all other activities that side-tracked him from Matthias. 

Matthias cleared his throat, trying to break the silence that he was met with after that comment. It wasn't that funny to Lukas, was it? 

Quickly the young man dropped himself, bending his back and delivering the other a firm bow as a way to show his respect. As he bent forward his belt began to jingle in the slightest, the coat of armor that he had sported because of his venture creaking. His signature smile snugly fit on his face, welcomed with open arms. He hadn't made a good second impression quite yet, but with a smooth recovery, there was still hope. He knew that there was. He was a prince charming, and there was no one on the planet that hadn't imagined what it would be like to be swept off their feet by such a person.

"Prince Lukas, I am grateful for the invitation to your kingdom." He began, lifting his head and leaning forward. Softly he took the other's hand in his, the slightest flinch from Lukas following at the touch. "We have many things to discuss."

The Norwegian prince had flinched. The feeling of Matthias' hands on him causing his body to negatively react, and in response, he had prepared for the onset of some sort of violence. The young man had genuinely expected another act of aggression, just like the one that had occurred the night that they had met. It was as though Matthias was two different people- by letter he came off as handsome and charming; he was a bit vain, but he managed to get Lukas' toes to curl a few times. But in person, he was intimidating and unpredictable. Lukas, who was hardly scared of anything and wasn't one to submit, felt uneasy in his presence.

The beauty lifted his gaze down, watching as the other continued to hold his hand and bring his lips to it. The softness of his lips sent a flurry of emotion skyrocketing through his body, though he did his very best to disregard it. Instead, he continued to hold his stoic face, unwilling to react.

"And that would be?" He pondered coyly, stealing his hand back and gesturing for the other to return to his feet. It was unnatural seeing the other so respectful.

"Well, my dearest Lukas, eager aren't we?" He quickly responded, shooting him a toothy smirk.

A shrug.

"Lukas, I wish to ask for your hand in marriage." The Dane bluntly puffed, bending himself downward and meeting the other's cobalt eyes. He continued to look at the other kindly, face bright and holding a facade of innocent and genuity that was easy to see through. 

Carefully the man placed his hand into a single iron meshed pocket that was in his armor, into the pocket that hadn't held his stallion's road trip snacks of celery and carrots. Instead, the pocket featured a silk pouch, goodies hanging inside of it. Goodies that the Dane eagerly fished out, using his unnaturally cumbersome fingers to untie it. As the pouch was opened, a single golden ring with a decoration of gems aplenty and intricate smith work stole the show. Beside it, a matching golden necklace with opal, rubies, and diamonds sat, light confidently reflecting on it. 

"I, Prince Matthias Anderson of the Danish crown wish to take thee as my wedded husband, to unite our kingdoms through matrimony, and create a better life for our people. Do you accept?"


End file.
